


History Will Hate Us But They’ll Never Forget Our Names

by allofthebirdsdiedin1986



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Also some of the characters are loosely based on icantwritegood’s interpretation of them, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fran becomes Tinsley’s friend, M/M, Multi, Ricky’s a rich boy, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Tinsley’s a private detective, also minimum of like twelve chapters, first fic so let’s see, god I live for that shit, i have like five already written, looking into a murder, of someone who was employed by Ricky, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2020-10-14 07:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthebirdsdiedin1986/pseuds/allofthebirdsdiedin1986
Summary: A perfect city by day, it becomes a whole different story when the sun goes down. Ricky and his friends live in a mansion there and their lives get disrupted when the stripper they hired turns out to be a private detective looking into the murder of one of the maids. They each have ulterior motives, and they all have experience in lying to get what they want.





	1. When the sun goes down...

The city was a slab of pure Italian marble. Silver skyscrapers rose into the heavens, the parks were pristine enough to perform surgery in, and the first-floor boutiques were dreamy havens for the wistful youth. Yet the seemingly perfect city of marble was still laced with black. Shadowed nights obscured the veins of obsidian that snaked through the city silently.  
He observed this all on the hour-long cab ride through the marble city.  
He observed it though the looks businessmen gave to each other in passing. He observed it through the alleyways that citizens crossed the street to avoid. He observed it in the way the wistful youth grew wary as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. And he observed it in the way women clutched their purses tighter as the stores closed.  
By the time his cab finally pulled up to the hotel, C.C Tinsley knew enough about the city to be set on edge.  
When he had settled his bags in his hotel room, he began to rifle through the file he had been given upon taking the case. He hadn’t opened it once on the flight to the city, opting to gather data first in order to understand his case better. He was working a homicide, a maid murdered three days ago. He wasn't quite sure what instincts made him take the case, he just knew that he trusted them. So Tinsley read the single page until it was committed to memory. There was little information to go off of, just the autopsy and the name of her employer and family; Tinsley resolved to question the employer first.

There was no name, only an address, so as the last light of day faded from the sky, Tinsley hailed a cab and leaned into the leather seat as he pulled a book from his bag and began to read.  
The cab came to an abrupt halt in front of shining iron gates, which Tinsley felt parallelled the gates of heaven rather disturbingly. He shoved his book into his shoulder bag and stepped onto the cobbled road. As the cab pulled away, he noticed that the gates were slightly ajar, so without reservation, he slipped through, into the estate beyond.  
It took him five minutes of walking down the road to even see the house it led to. A house wasn’t an accurate word to describe it, he thought. It could have been a town for the size of it. Not even a small town, more of a mediocre sized town. The frankly obnoxiously massive mansion sprawled across the emerald grass, surrounded by well-kept landscaping. Money oozed from the mansion, and Tinsley was wary from the moment he saw it. He stopped at the arched doorway that was now in front of him. He took a long exhale, preparing himself for the inevitably rich, arrogant pricks he was about to meet, and slammed the knocker three times.  
The door opened within seconds, and Tinsley was in no way prepared for what hit him next.  
A smiling woman appeared as the door swung open, holding a full bottle of champagne. Tinsley noted the way her white dress contrasted her caramel skin as she moved into the doorway. Her brows creased as she looked over him, then she promptly turned and gestured him into the lavish area beyond. Without hesitation, he stepped through the entryway; someone must have called to explain that he was coming to look into the case. His eyes were caught on innumerable marble busts and exquisite golden chandeliers, the pinnacle of careless wealth in his eyes. The woman led him into a room off to the side, in which lay two men, and three other women. She sat on a plush sofa and stared at him expectantly. He cleared his throat,  
“Hi, I assume you know why I’m here. I would like to talk to you about the death of-”  
“Wait. You aren’t the stripper?” A blond man cut him off. Tinsley’s eyes widened, and he glanced at the other people sitting in front of him, wondering if they had thought the same; they clearly had. The other man in the room met his gaze and a lazy smile pulled across his full lips,  
“I guess he’ll have to do.” He ran a hand through his dark, curly hair and took a swig of the champagne bottle that had been set down on the table in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Tinsley felt his cheeks heat, and he took a small step back. His eyes swept to the four others in the room, looking for any possible cues to leave. He found none.  
“I would like to talk to you about the death of Mary Hill, a woman employed by a member or members of this household.” He swallowed nervously as the same woman who had led him in stood up, her expression now bored.  
“Come back in the morning, we’re busy.” She smirked, “Unless you want to join in”  
She laughed at the panicked look that appeared on his face as she turned and led him back out of the room. As he turned the corner he saw the curly-haired man watching him. When the man caught his eye again, he winked at Tinsley. Leaving Tinsley to run into the column in front of him. The woman turned back as she heard him bump into it, and caught a glimpse of the other man chuckling in the room behind them.  
“He has that effect on people. Don’t think too much on it, sweetie” Tinsley quickly ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his tie before following the woman to the door. He stepped through the doorway and turned back to face the woman  
“His name’s Ricky, by the way.” She offered, before shutting the door in his face, leaving him wondering what the hell had just happened.  
He managed to get a cab after walking for ten minutes. In that time his brain ran through what had occurred again and again until he regretted even knocking on that door. He rubbed his eyes as he watched the city pass by from the cab. The streets were all but deserted now, only a few lone figures prowled through the dim streets.  
He got back to his room late, stopping only to have a glass of water before falling into bed. Tinsley took a long time falling asleep that night. He wondered if that woman with the white dress had information about the murders. He wondered what the blond man had been whispering as he turned the corner. He wondered if the stripper ever made it to the house.


	2. I like it when you call me sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley goes back to the mansion to talk to Ricky, and some crazy stuff goes down. Ricky is dangerous and I heard his mother is in town? Also I’m making Banjo not based on Shane cause I have ideas for him.

Tinsley rubbed his eyes as he woke, his mind automatically flashing back to the night before. He groaned and pulled himself out of bed to get dressed.   
When he felt he could stand going back to the mansion, he hailed a cab and found himself once again in front of the iron gates. They looked different now that the sun was shining, more shining silver than iron. It made the likeness even more strange in his mind. He pushed them open and continued down the path he had walked last night. With the light of day helping him, he now beheld the mansion in its true glory. It looked as if an ancient castle had been joined with an old southern estate. Stone spires rose high into the sky while tall arched windows covered the majority of the front. Both ancient and modern, the architecture soothed his artist's mind while also infuriating his practical sensibilities.   
As he made his way up the last few steps, he made a sorry attempt at composing himself to make up for his lack of dignity the previous night. The door opened on the second knock, with the same woman at the door. She took a split second to remember who he was, then nodded   
”Come on in, Ricky’s been waiting for you”  
She led him through the grand entryway and into a dining room of sorts. Evidently expensive china was laid on the long wooden table, and sitting at the end of it was the man from last night. He gestured for Tinsley to sit, so he pulled himself into the chair at the other end. Ricky poured himself a cup of tea silently and took a leisurely sip before setting it down and glancing at Tinsley  
”You want to know about Mary Hill.” He said, plain and simple.   
”Yes. She was in your employment at the time of her death and I would like to ask you some questions regarding her place in your household.” Tinsley swallowed, this man set him on edge more than he would like to admit. There was a certain fire in his eyes, he noted. Sometimes warm and soft, other times hard and cruel. It was unusual enough for Tinsley to be wary.   
“Where do you work mister…?”   
“Tinsley”   
“Where do you work mister Tinsley?” He took another sip of tea as Tinsley responded,  
“I’m a private detective. I was hired by Miss Hill’s family to look into the case.”  
“But yet you don’t live here, so you traveled into the city for this case. Why?”   
“I take jobs across the country. Again, I would like to talk about Miss Hill, not myself.”   
“No family to go back to?” This time Tinsley just stared him down until he caved,  
“Fine, we hired her a few years back. I didn't pay much attention to her, but she seemed pretty shy. Clint tried to get with her a while back but she turned him away real quick, most people do though.” Tinsley found himself listening to Ricky intensely, noting the slight drawl of his deep voice, almost southern.   
“Clint?” Tinsley queried, relaxing into his chair a bit more   
“His real name’s Banjo McClintock, but for obvious reasons, we call him Clint” He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. Tinsley pushed his chair out from the table,   
“I need to question Mr. McClintock, then I’ll be on my way.” Ricky pouted, his chocolate eyes widening with innocence so unlike what he had seen in the past day.   
“You should stay. It gets so boring around here.” His honeyed words slid from his lips with a small smile and a shift from innocence to deviance. Tinsley flushed, cursing himself internally.   
“Some people have actual jobs, so, unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay and party with you and your posse.” In that instant, Tinsley had decided that he did not like Ricky. Not one bit. These people were always the same, not having done a hard day’s work in their life, but yet getting everything they could ever wish for. Ricky’s eyes flashed dangerously as he rose from his seat, his eyes burning into Tinsley’s.   
“Sir.” Tinsley back-tracked, hoping to save himself from whatever hole he had dug himself into. Ricky’s face broke into a destructive smile, not reaching his fiery eyes. He took a step back as the other man prowled towards him. Another step back, and another, then a cold wall against his back. Ricky was only inches in front of him, and the other man rose on his toes ever so slightly and leaned towards him.   
”Just because I like it when you call me sir doesn't mean that you can get away with what you just said to me.” He whispered, then pulled away, leaving goosebumps on Tinsley’s skin. Then, as fast as Ricky had exploded, he was in his seat again, sipping his tea. Rattled, Tinsley was about to leave when the door flew open of its own accord. A blond woman, one which he had seen last night, breezed in.   
”Holly,” Ricky drawled, ”You interrupted my meeting with this very pleasant man” His eyes flicked to Tinsley’s for a second before settling again on the woman. Tinsley noted that she was a good deal shorter than him, though practically everyone was. Her eyes swept over him before quickly returning to Ricky,   
”We have an issue.” She paused, clearly filtering herself for the stranger in the room.   
”I was just about to leave” Tinsley offered. Ricky glowered but didn't protest as he slipped out the door. He made sure not to close it, as right after leaving he snuck behind a column a few feet from the door. Holly continued talking seconds later  
”Your mother is in town. She wants to check up on you, I only heard because I have a source at the train station.” He heard Ricky stand and begin to pace around the room,   
”Goddammit. How soon?”   
”Four hours at best.”   
”Not much we can do now, we need to get the house together, have the cook make something good, call the maids in, and prepare for th--” Tinsley jumped as he heard steps behind him, the caramel-skinned woman had stopped a few feet behind him.   
”I won't tell” She winked, and continued walking.   
”Wait!” Tinsley whispered and her heels stopped clicking on the floor ”I don't know your name. I’d feel guilty for accepting a favor without even knowing your name” She smiled, a genuine, warm smile, not at all like the paralyzing fear that followed when Ricky smiled at him.   
”Francesca Norris, Fran is we’re friends. Which we’re not” She winked again and Tinsley found the corners of his lips turning up. At least he had one ally in the damn warzone of the mansion. Tinsley slipped out of the door just in time to see Ricky and the woman, Holly, come out of the room.   
Tinsley spent the rest of the day interviewing the maid’s friends and family, all pretty plain, except for the sister. Ms. Hill lived a few cities over and was the one who hired him. She was an eccentric art collector and Tinsley felt her complex history with her sister was worth a second glance. But her alibi checked out, and she seemed harmless enough, so Tinsley forgot about her for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one ends abruptly, I didn’t want to make it too long. I have some crazy stuff already written for the next chapter so bear w/me. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)


	3. doctor fear is weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda a transitional chapter, Tinsley goes to the morgue and does some stuff. I’m adding two chapters at once here so bear with me

He woke up with the sun on his third day in the city. He called the morgue as he buttoned his shirt, resting the phone between his shoulder and jaw. They were letting him come in to inspect the body, but the secretary on the phone paused to warn him about the eccentricities of the mortician before setting up the meeting, but Tinsley could care less about how pleasant he was. If he could get there in fifteen minutes, he could see the body. If he couldn’t make it, he was out of luck for the next week. Tinsley very much did not want to be stuck in the city for a week, so he settled for not brushing his unruly hair. He stopped only to get coffee before walking to the morgue a block over.  
As soon as he stepped through the door, a chill ran over him. The secretary waved him over a split second later, so he didn’t have much time to observe the room. From what he could tell it was plain, no artwork or proof of time and care showed on the walls. And it was freezing. He stopped at the secretary’s desk.  
“Tinsley, right?” She smiled politely at him before standing and leading him through the hallway to the right of her. She pushed open a door, and Tinsley entered to see a man, the mortician, he presumed, from the white coat that was hanging on a hook by the doorway.  
“Ah! Mister Tinsley. How nice to have someone from out of town, it gets boring around here. You want to see Mary Hill’s body, yes?” Before Tinsley could speak, the man was moving about, muttering to himself as he went. He pulled open one of the metal drawers lining the far wall, revealing the form of a woman cloaked in a white sheet. His nametag read “Dr. Fear”, Tinsley observed with a hint of amusement. The doctor pulled back the white sheet abruptly and Tinsley winced at the pale body. Only a couple of days old, the body hadn’t yet begun the worst of the deterioration, so he could see the bruises around the woman’s neck and the puncture wounds in her abdomen clearly. He counted twenty-six. The report had said twenty-four. Dr. Fear handed him a thin file, containing the autopsy report.  
“It says here that they found her body at the beach. Any idea where it was exactly?” Fear shrugged,  
“Probably by the Nine Mile Ridge, we’ve had some suicides by that area, it’s not unlikely that someone would dump her there. Have you been to the crab place a couple of miles from here? Quite delicious, innit? I went there a few weeks back, and the waitress was just awful-“ At that point, Tinsley zoned out, and began inspecting the body more carefully. “Any DNA results from under her fingernails?” Tinsley interrupted the man’s rant. “Nah, just some dirt and sand. So this waitress, she has the audacity to tell me-“ Tinsley let out a soft exhale and continued moving through the room. She was twenty and had left her inheritance with her when she decided to move into the city. Her family had told him as much. She had taken the job as a way to get some sustained money until she could get off her feet. That didn’t help him very much, however. The members of her family were unlikely suspects, none of them had a clear motive. He ran a hand through his brown hair as he realized that he needed to go back to the mansion. Goddamnit. He thanked the doctor, who was still rambling away and left the freezing building.  
He took a few tries to open his hotel door, and nearly fell through it as it swung open. The lights were off, and nothing was out of place. But something felt wrong. Something felt very wrong. He slowly slipped a hand into the back of his jeans and grasped the handgun that was tucked there. With equal slow, he brought it to his side and took a step into the room. He flicked on the light and in an instant had his gun up and was scanning the room. Nothing. His jaw clenched and he took a couple more strides. And then a hand wrapped around his neck, leaning him into a hard body. Manicured nails threatened to pierce into his throat. Fuck. He attempted to turn around, but his attacker had already snatched his gun and held him tightly against their chest. A cloth was pressed against his mouth and nose, and Tinsley thrashed against it. The cloth was released from his mouth, and he turned, feeling like he was wading through mud. He only saw a whip of a long blond braid before he faded from consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions or want to let me know anything feel free to tell me! :)


	4. Call me Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Tinsley gets beaten up. Ouch.

Hanging. Tinsley was hanging from the ceiling. He couldn't see anything around him in the pitch black darkness. Rope bit sharply into his wrists as his feet dangled just over the floor. He gritted his teeth, feeling a cold sweat break out over his body. Goddamn chloroform. Before he could begin worrying about how he would get out of the ropes, A door opened, allowing some light into the room he was in. There was no furniture, just a concrete floor and brick walls. A woman’s silhouette stalked into the room. Shrouded in black clothing and a dark mask covering her mouth and nose. Immediately blinded as a light switch turned on, Tinsley shut his eyes tightly before slowly peering out, allowing his eyes to adjust to the brightness.  
The woman stood in front of him, dark gray eyes pierced holes into his own, and a long braid swept across her shoulder. So this was the same woman that kidnapped him from his room earlier. Who knows how long “earlier” was, he could have been knocked out for hours. The woman shifted her weight onto her back foot, seeming as if she were about to turn from him. Then her fist was slamming into his ribs, making his body jerk back helplessly. His hands clenched into fists above his head where they were still bound by rope. Another hit came, straight to his diaphragm, leaving him choking and gasping for air.  
That’s when the pain hit. Waves of it soared through his system. If his nails weren’t bitten down to stubs they would have sliced into his palm. He gasped again, forcing air into his chest. The woman inspected her nails for a split second, then struck again. His abdomen. His cheekbone. His ribs. His nose. It hurt so badly that it must have been broken. Blood flowed freely as his body swung like a punching bag with each hit. Again. Again. Again. He felt the edges of his mind getting fuzzy. Again. He was going to pass out. Again. His eyes closed. He winced as he heard movement, but no hit came. He was on the brink of passing out. He forced his eyes open. The woman was bandaging up her split knuckles. It was over. Thank god it was over. Thank god. His consciousness slipped away with the pain.  
Tinsley woke up back in his own bed. The ache and dull throbbing pain all flooded him within a few seconds of waking. He groaned and sat up in his bed before shakily rising to his feet. He found a mirror and winced at his own reflection. He looked like crap, to say the least. He sported a black eye, a nasty swollen bruise on his left cheekbone, and after lifting his t-shirt he found multiple sickening bruises peppering his abdomen and ribs. Tinsley then continued about business as usual, though with an added obstacle of not hitting any of his bruises on the sink as he got done.  
He gritted his teeth as he buttoned up his shirt, but he finally made it out the door of the hotel. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Unknown number. Tinsley ignored it. The phone buzzed again, this time Tinsley picked up.  
“Tinsley speaking”  
“It’s Fran, meet at the cafe two blocks west of your hotel in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.”  
“Wait-“  
“Check your bag” A dial tone sounded, leaving Tinsley stunned, and slightly irritated. He shoved his phone into his pocket and opened his bag. Right on top of his laptop was a small card. He flipped it open. It read, in a sprawling, looping cursive,  
You should call me sir more often  
Xx  
His mind got overthrown by the dull roar of rage that flew through his body. Of course Ricky was behind this, of course, that pretentious bastard would try to intimidate him into submission. No way. However, as mad as he was at Ricky, he couldn’t turn away his only ally within the madhouse. So he crumpled the note, threw it into a garbage can, and went to meet Francesca Norris.


	5. Nine Mile Ridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Fran and Tinsley interaction in this one. I really like Fran as a character and I hope this chapter shows it well

She stood as the chime went off in the small cafe. Tinsley walked in, his long limbs a bit less stiff after the walk over. Fran grimaced as she noticed the bruises on his face. He took the seat across from her without a word.  
“I’m so sorry!” Fran blurted as soon as he was seated.  
“I take it you knew?” Tinsley inquired, bitterness lacing his voice. Fran nodded slowly. Tinsley ground his teeth and took a sip of the coffee already placed in front of him.  
“What do you all do anyway?” Tinsley pushed, “It’s not like you can go around kidnapping people for a living.” Fran frowned,  
“You mean the Goldsworths? They got their fortune generations ago. Stocks, I think. Now they oversee a lot of overseas shipping and boring stuff like that” Goldsworth. So that was who the mansion belonged to.  
“Is Ricky a Goldsworth, or someone else in your group?” Fran laughed,  
“Yeah, his mother had two kids. The girl isolated herself from the family, we have no clue where she is, so everything went to Ricky.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Ricky can be temperamental, but if you win his favor, nothing is out of the realm of possibility. He can give you anything you could dream of.” Tinsley leaned forward at this,  
“That’s what happened to you.” It didn’t need clarification, but Fran nodded anyways.  
“None of us murdered the maid if you were wondering. You’d be out of your right mind not to. She was nice, and yeah she had issues with Clint, but it wasn’t anything serious. Clint’s tried to get with everyone within a ten-mile radius, getting turned down wouldn’t set him off like that.” Tinsley raised an eyebrow, but allowed her to continue,  
“Ricky needs to be-“ She paused, thinking of a word, “Tamed a bit. I’d be the first to admit that he’s a ton of fun, but things can get out of hand fast.” Tinsley waited, but an elaboration didn’t come.  
“You want to make a deal with me.” Again, Fran nodded,  
“I think- I think you’re good for him. He needs someone to set him off balance a bit.” Tinsley bit his lip,  
“And what are you offering in return?”  
“Information. You will never be able to trust anything Ricky tells you. Ask me. I can tell you about the maid, about the Goldsworths, whatever.” He leaned back into his chair. It was a good offer, and he trusted her perhaps more than he should. However, he held no clue as to where her loyalties lay. Especially with the far-off look she got when she mentioned what Ricky could offer.  
“I’ll sleep on it.” He stood and pulled his long coat around him, wincing at the dull pain that bloomed from doing so. Fran rose, shook his hand, and gave him a business card with her number for when he made up his mind. She smiled brightly as he pushed the door open, heading into the brisk mid-morning air.  
After his meeting with Fran, Tinsley didn’t linger long on the details of the conversation, instead, he headed down to Nine-Mile Ridge, where the body was found.  
It was a pretty beach, with stone cliffs leaning over the white sands. He could see how there would be suicides however, as he stood atop one of the cliffs. It would have a beautiful view of the sunrise in the morning, as well as a beautiful view on the way down. He sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the edge. The breeze whipped his hair across his face, but he didn’t mind, he was too lost in thought.  
Most of them seemed to be centered on Ricky Goldsworth. Why had Ricky been so worried about his mother coming, if he was practically an only child? Why had he sent someone else to do his dirty work when he so clearly had the ability to? What wasn’t Ricky telling him about the maid? Why were his eyes so intriguing. Why did he give him information the other day? Tinsley dragged his mind away from the inigma that was Ricky.  
The police tape was already gone, it had been a good week since the murder, they probably took anything useful back to the police station. He’d have to go there.  
Tinsley hated to go, it was an exceptional view. But he was here on a job.  
He was about to stand when someone sat down next to him. Francesca Norris flashed a smile and shifted her gaze to the ocean beyond.  
“I got you an invite to dinner tonight. Dress nicely and be there by 6:00.” Tinsley raised a brow but nodded. Fran turned to him rather abruptly,  
“Do you have a family, Tinsley?” His brows furrowed at her question,  
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Why do you ask?”  
“Just wondering. I used to, but we didn’t end on great terms. I sometimes worry if something wrong with me, just because I don’t miss them. I know I should, but I just don’t have it in me.” Tinsley turned as she leaned back. He laid back with her, the warm stone pressed against his back.  
“Don’t worry about it. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I truly believe it when I say that you’re a good person. Though I do wonder how you ended up with a bunch like that.” He smiled softly at her as she let out a brilliant laugh. She turned her head to his and smiled,  
“Thank you, Tinsley.” She stood and began walking away.  
“Don’t be late!” She called as Tinsley sat back up, watching the waves lap at the sand.


	6. A Violent Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner party gone dark. Tinsley meets the rest of the gang, including an oc. Hopefully you guys like it!

He checked his watch, five minutes until he had to leave. Tinsley pulled on the suit jacket he had brought with him and pulled at the knot of his tie. He looked good, besides the bruises marring his face. His hair was gelled back, though still unruly, it looked a bit more purposeful. He stuck his wallet into his trouser pocket and strolled out of his room.  
The gates looked as they always did, much too pristine and holy for the madhouse within. Tinsley wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he knew a good deal of the stories. The gates swung open in moments, by some automation that he couldn’t see, and Tinsley continued to the manor beyond.  
He took a deep breath and slammed the knocker down.  
The blond man, Clint, opened it. Tinsley hadn’t realized quite how tall the other man was He rose a couple of inches over even Tinsley. He had a large build, one in which you know they are muscular, but you can’t necessarily see it. He was the one who tried to go out with Mary Hill. There was a small silence, one in which Tinsley observed all of this before the man welcomed him and asked him to come in.  
As he stepped into the entranceway, Fran came up behind him and linked arms. She tilted her head and leaned over to him  
“The rest are in the dining room. Ricky isn’t in a particularly great mood, so please don’t push him.” Tinsley held her gaze for a moment before dipping his head and continuing on.  
Fran’s emerald gown rippled as they walked and every few steps, Tinsley would see a brief glimpse of something shining through the high slit of her dress. He didn’t have to wait long to see what it was, however, because when they stopped in the doorway her dress shifted to show a small handgun in a holster around her thigh. She noticed him staring and winked at him before striding into the room as if she were being coronated as queen.  
This brought a small smile to Tinsley’s lips, at least until he noticed Ricky.  
It wasn’t just his eyes this time. Every inch of the smaller man seemed to be burning with a desire to fight. Ricky leaned back into his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his delicate features. He was looking for a fight all right. Tinsley lifted his chin, squared his shoulders, and strode into the room. The table was set for seven, but only four were seated. He recognized them; Ricky sat at the head, Fran and Clint to his sides, and Holly sat next to Clint. Tinsley took the seat next to Fran.  
It was a large table, but it felt much too intimate for Tinsley’s liking, and he was immediately on edge. He glanced across the table as the group greeted him with polite smiles. Then he saw Holly and noticed the long blond hair, the petite stature, the cruel gray eyes. His jaw clenched and he glanced at Fran.  
She dipped her head slightly as if saying Yes, it was her. But don’t you dare make a scene out of it. His body was rigid, and he could feel every one of the bruises she had put on him. But he did as he was told and shifted his gaze from the woman across from him. It was then that a new person ambled into the room. He had also seen her before, though briefly. She was there that first night. Dressed in a red gown, she looked as if she were Indian or Pakastani, and was absolutely stunning.  
With high cheekbones and eyeliner swept across her lids, she had the looks of a supermodel. He must have been too flustered to have noticed her previously.  
He sat in awe for a split second before she politely introduced herself and gracefully sat down next to Holly. It took him a second to realize that all of the people at the table were unfairly attractive. Ricky with his cherub-like curls, full lips, and painfully chocolate brown eyes, Fran with her golden skin and warm smile, Clint with his strong jaw and blond hair, Holly with her fierce features and her waves of blond hair, and then Kali, with her silky hair, delicate features, and curious eyes.  
Tinsley suddenly felt extremely inadequate, as if he was just realizing how different he was from these people. Even Fran, who he had laughed with earlier in the day, seemed so distant from what he was used to.  
Ricky seemed to see his thought process and forced Tinsley to meet his gaze before running his eyes up and down his body before meeting his eyes again as if saying you’re not so bad yourself. Tinsley’s cheeks heated and he quickly shifted his eyes to the silverware in front of him.  
They were ornately carved, with rubies tastefully embedded in the handles. He bit his lip and kept his gaze downwards until Fran cleared her throat.  
“I’d like to take a moment to appreciate our guest for looking into the unfortunate death of our employee. I’m sure her family will be very grateful to learn what happened to her poor soul, and I strive to help as much as I can.”  
Tinsley raised his brows. Every word in the short toast had a double meaning, one meant for Tinsley, and one for her friends. She was playing a game and a dangerous one at that. She had her own agenda, he realized, one that he needed to find before he became a pawn in an unknown game.  
Then Fran sat down, and they began talking.  
It was a calculated sort of talk, censored. It was friendly and jovial, but it was also flat, fake. Tinsley leaned back into his chair, listening.  
They were careful to not let any information of actual import slip, but Tinsley was able to glimpse the way they worked.  
Ricky was the center. The eye of the storm, what everything swirled around. He laid the groundwork and they built upon it. Fran and Clint whirred around him. Then Holly, the informant, the soldier, the businesswoman. She had many names.  
And Kali. She was still an enigma to Tinsley. He couldn’t put his finger on her purpose, her job within the circle. She was quiet, but when she spoke it was passionate and fiery. He would ask Fran about her later.  
A chime sounded, and Ricky’s eyes needed only to flick to Holly’s before she excused herself and hurried out of the room. Clint followed, then Kali, her blood-red dress sweeping across the floor. Fran met my eyes, gave a small smile of reassurance, then rose and left.  
They had left me alone with Ricky.  
He leaned back in his chair, playing with a silver fork. A lazy smile crept across his face. Tinsley paled. He was like a mountain cat who had decided to play with its food before pouncing. And Tinsley was dinner.  
Ricky opened his mouth to speak; at the same time Tinsley blurted out the first thing that came to mind,  
“Was your mother's visit nice?” If Ricky was surprised at Tinsley having this knowledge, he didn’t show it.  
“Quite. She’s a delightful woman, you should meet her sometime.” Tinsley chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking.  
“The bruises look awful, I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.” He was playing now, waiting for the best moment to pounce. Tinsley wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of losing his composure.  
“Yeah, I wonder who would kidnap me from my hotel and beat me for hours.” Ricky raised a delicate hand to his mouth in feigned shock, hiding the smile tugging on his lips. He was taunting him, waiting for Tinsley to bite.  
He took the bait.  
“I wonder, who would have the balls to send someone else to do their dirty work and try to intimidate me into submission. I don’t know, just seems like they couldn’t even get their lazy ass off their golden couch to do it on their own.” Ricky pounced. He loosened his black tie from around his throat and brought it over his head. Tinsley was standing now, fists clenched. Ricky laughed, his features distorting into a smile Tinsley thought could have come from Satan himself, but he held his ground.  
Before Tinsley could even bring his arms up to defend himself, to satisfy the itch he had to punch that sly grin off of Ricky’s face, he was kneeling over and Ricky was behind him. The black tie was slid around his neck and pulled from behind. It tightened gradually until Tinsley was clawing at it, gasping for air. Ricky leaned down and Tinsley felt the uncomfortable heat of his breath by his ear.  
“Believe me, mister Tinsley, I do my own work quite often.” He paused, “However,” the tie was yanked again and warm tears rolled down his cheeks, “I had other business to attend to. Don’t worry, you won’t miss me next time, and I’ll enjoy it so much more because of this.” With that Ricky released his grip on the tie and Tinsley fell onto the cold tile. He snatched the tie from his neck and threw it to the ground beside him. Tinsley tried to steady his breaths, but he had to admit that he was shaken. He wasn’t used to being so helpless, it was unnerving. Ricky plucked his crumpled tie from the floor and fixed it back around his neck before sitting back down, smoothing his tailored suit jacket down. Tinsley glared up at him, still on his hands and knees, and was about to rise when he was thrown into a coughing fit.  
A few minutes went by, minutes in which Ricky had simply sat at the table sipping tea. When Tinsley finally rose on shaky knees, he heaved himself into his chair, glaring at Ricky all the while.  
They sat at the table in silence until the others found their way back. He saw the way their eyes flashed to Tinsley’s raw throat and immediately turned to Ricky before lowering.  
He really was their leader. They had to put up with whatever crazy shit he did. None of them would do anything about it. Fran at least gave him an apologetic smile as she sat back down.  
After a few moments, the conversation resumed and Tinsley forced himself to forget what had happened and focus on the situation at hand. He was supposed to be gathering information, and that’s what he would do.  
By the time he got to his hotel, Tinsley was exhausted. He had barely gotten any useful information and whatever he had gotten was insignificant enough that they had let it slip.  
And his throat hurt, the skin was raw to the touch and stood a stark red in contrast to his pale skin. He quickly stripped his jacket and shoes before falling into the stiff bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to add two chapters in quick succession and after that, I'll try to update more regularly, maybe every Friday?  
Also if anyone has suggestions for scenes they'd like to see in this fic or even other fics with Ricky and Tinsley I'd be happy to hear them!


	7. A Ritual, plus some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why I shouldn’t be given free reign of a story.

He lay there, eyes on the ceiling, overwhelmed, staring up at the water stains on the popcorn ceiling. A shower started somewhere near his room, he could hear the faint drone of the water. He could also hear a faint tapping noise. Three light taps. A long pause. A more forceful three taps. It was then that he looked over to his window and found the source of the noise.   
He rushed to the window and pulled it open to allow the slight woman inside. Holly’s long braid swung violently as she hoisted herself through the small window and through to his hotel room.   
She plopped herself on his bed and rolled her shoulders before saying   
“Fran wants to see you.” Her words were icy and she was clearly less-than-thrilled to be a messenger for him. Tinsley raised his brows slightly and sat on the AC unit.   
“Okay. May I ask why you couldn’t have just rung me? I do have a phone, you know. There was no need to climb through my window.” Her lips pursed and she spoke slowly as if she were explaining a concept to a child.   
“Our employer puts a large emphasis on secrecy in the household. There are people that we would prefer to not know all of our movements.” She patted her thighs and rose from the bed, “I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes, black Audi sedan, can’t miss it.” He moved off of the unit as she pulled the window open again and swung herself down through it, pulling it closed behind her. Tinsley brought his hands up to his face and let his tired eyes rest for a moment before pulling his shoes on and grabbing his bag.   
As Tinsley saw the Silver Gates for the second time that evening, he gritted his teeth and let his eyes close for a second. But hey, he couldn’t complain, this was his job after all.   
Tinsley was dropped off a few minute’s walk from the front of the house. When the car continued down the driveway Fran appeared from behind a tree, a bright smile, showing her white teeth.   
“How is it that you managed to make Ricky so royally pissed off?” She shook her head  
“He went on a rampage after you left, breaking things around the house and the sorts.” Tinsley raised his brows,  
“Did you bring me here just to tell me that? Or did you have a point here?” Her smile wavered,   
“I see someone didn’t have a nice time at dinner either.” She turned and walked farther into the trees, waving him along.   
He followed Fran until she stopped at the entrance of a small clearing. Boulders were placed in a semicircle around a ring of half-ruined pillars with vines creeping up them. Fran walked right through the pillars and sat cross-legged in the very middle of the circle. Tinsley hovered by the edge of the clearing, unsure of what Fran was getting at.   
Her eyes flicked over to him and she patted the space in front of her.   
Sinking onto the filthy stone, Tinsley hunched over to look at the space in front of him. Fran was drawing something with chalk, but he couldn’t make it out. She turned and pulled candles out of the bag she had and placed them next to her.   
At this point, Tinsley was confused enough that he was about to just stand up and leave, damn whatever Fran wanted of him. But just as he was about to brush the dirt off of his trousers and stand up, Fran began talking.   
“You haven’t seen Ricky. Not really. You think you know what his anger looks like, but you haven’t even seen a fraction of it. Sometimes, sometimes I think that he may be an actual demon. I don’t even know if I believe in all that, heaven and hell, angels and demons, but Ricky makes me wonder, truly wonder.” Tinsley didn’t know what to do with this, so he stayed silent and let the woman sitting in front of him keep talking. She was drawing something complex on a circle carved into the stone they were sitting on. White chalk scraped against the stones, intricate geometric patterns that Tinsley didn’t recognize forming. Fran kept talking throughout this, saying   
“He’s weird around you. Weird is dangerous with Ricky, unpredictable.” She moved the candles to points around the circle. “And Clint, Clint wants to punch the daylights out of you.” Tinsley found that reassuring. “And with the elections coming up, we can’t afford to step out of line, but with you here-” She trailed off as she struck a match and lit the first candle. This struck his interest, he wished she would keep talking. What about the elections affected them, and forced them to be on good behavior? Fran took the candle and lit the other five with it. Tinsley watched as she did, watching the flames flicker in her eyes and her hair shining with the light given off by them.   
“Do you have any food?” Tinsley’s focus snapped back,  
“What?”  
“Food, you know, like what people eat.” He rolled his eyes and pulled a breakfast bar out of his bag and placed it in her open hand.   
“Any change by chance?” he gave her a long look before rummaging through his bag and pulling out scattered coins. She placed his bar on one side of the geometric design she had drawn, and the coins on the other. Tinsley was tired and not pleased with being dragged back to the estate for some pointless excursion that wasn’t even being explained to him.   
Fran took a small pebble and tapped the points of her design with it, saying words in a foreign language as she did. He couldn’t decipher the language. It didn’t sound like anything that he had ever heard. She finally sat back after placing the pebble in the middle of the design. Tinsley rubbed his eyes,  
“Are you going to grace me with the knowledge of what this is all about, or should I head out?” Fran looked up at him,   
“It’s a cleansing.”   
“A what?”  
“A cleansing, to purify something.” She said it as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.  
“Why are we cleansing something”   
Fran glanced down at her work,  
“We’re cleansing Ricky. I do it every time I feel as if he’s losing his grip. Even if it doesn’t do anything, it makes me feel like I’m helping.”   
Tinsley frowned,   
“Helping with what?”  
“When he gets angry, really angry, he does cruel things to people and we cover for him and hide his tracks, but I always feel guilty.”   
“What sort of stuff does he do?” The candles flickered with a surge of wind, one going out entirely. Fran relit the candle and stared back at him when she was done,  
“Do you really think that I can tell you that?” He had assumed that it was a lost cause, they were all much too loyal for Tinsley to get incriminating evidence out of them. He shrugged,  
“So, how does this whole cleansing thing work?” Fran’s back straightened and her eyes lit up as she began explaining,  
“Basically, It takes his negative energy and shifts it somewhere where it’s less harmful. So it doesn’t really replace it with positive energy, it just moves the negative energy somewhere else so that he causes less destruction.” She shrugged,   
“It just makes me feel a little bit better about what we do.” Tinsley studied her, studied the way she used her hands to gesticulate, the way she stopped herself from bringing up subjects that would get her in trouble. And Tinsley decided that if Ricky was the destroyer, Fran was the creator. She could fabricate anything she wanted, she could use her charisma to infiltrate people’s lives and then dig their graves from the inside. She could shift her nature to fit the description you needed her to be. He had thought that Holly was the cunning worker bee, the one who could infiltrate and do the dirty work. He hadn’t seen that Fran did the same, just on a different level. He would never see Fran doing her work, he knew. She was always and never on the job, she always had an underlying motive that could rip the floor from under you. If Ricky left a wake of destruction, Fran would leave a void.   
She terrified him to his core.   
But she couldn’t know that. If she was playing a game, he would play one of his own.  
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand, if you don’t like what you do, why do you do it?” Fran frowned,  
“I owe Ricky my life. I had nothing when I came to this city, and he gave me a home.” Vague answer. Tinsley fiddled with the grass sprouting through the cracks of the stone.   
“Why did you bring me here?” He lowered his voice, softening it.   
“I’m honestly not sure. I think I wanted to be reassured that I still have some humanity in me. That even though we do these horrible things, I give back a bit. Or at least I try.” Tinsley nodded and Fran closed her eyes, said a few murmured words, and blew out all of the candles, leaving them in the dark.   
A moment of silence before Fran stood, dusting off her black pants. Tinsley stood with her, and she linked arms with him after shoving the still-hot candles into her bag and led him away from the site.   
They walked closer to the house as their conversation resumed, slightly more ordinary this time. As they walked, Tinsley noticed a man’s coat thrown haphazardly over the stone ledge of the garden. He was about to open his mouth to comment on it when he saw two figures in the garden. One, a man, was backed against the stone wall, his head thrown back. Another man, Tinsley realized with no small amount of shock, had his head by the others neck, moving down his open chest. Tinsley felt his cheeks heat, but couldn’t bring himself to look away for more than a second.   
It was only when the man pressed against the wall turned his head towards him that Tinsley realized he knew him.  
It was Ricky.  
And the bigger man leaving kisses down his chest was Clint.   
Fran must have seen the recognition in his eyes because she grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise and pulled him from the scene.   
Once they were a safe distance away from the house, Fran whipped him around to face her.   
“We weren’t supposed to see that. Swear to me that you won’t tell a soul what you saw.” Her face was grave, urgency apparent in her eyes.   
“Yes. Yes okay, I swear.” The words felt bland in his mouth, his mind kept flashing back to the way Ricky’s shirt was opened and how he could see his heavy breathing from where they had been standing.   
He forced the thoughts out of his mind, but couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart.  
He still couldn’t, even after he was safely back in his hotel bed, tossing and turning and throwing the sheets off of the bed and running his fingers through his hair. His mind always wandered back to the way his head was thrown back, his eyes shut tight.   
Tinsley fell asleep with the shadowed image on Ricky in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like last time, let me know if you have any suggestions and let me know what you think!


	8. A Note and A Napkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was getting off topic so I needed to bring it back to the main point of the story. Also this is kind of a chill chapter but don’t worry I have some big plans in motion.

Tinsley woke up to his sheets thrown off the bed and a pounding headache. Without getting out of bed, he pulled his laptop from his bag. He opened a new tab and hesitantly typed  
Ricky Goldsworth  
Dozens of news articles popped up. One about his mother, Lucy, donating thousands of dollars to a charity, another about Ricky paying for a student’s college tuition. So they were philanthropists.  
Next was Clint. There were fewer articles on him, but Tinsley did find a picture. It was grainy but he could make out Clint and Ricky, with a woman, Holly, lounging on a chair in the background. Clint had two drinks in his hands and a wicked grin on his face, and the room was hazy, as if it were filled with smoke. They clearly didn’t shy away from the more unsavory aspects of life.  
He found nothing on Holly, as he figured he would. While Ricky was a public figure, always in the spotlight, Holly worked in the shadows. Then, with more pause than the others, he typed Francesca Norris into the search bar.  
There was nothing.There weren’t even any birth records that could match up. There was no proof of a Francesca Norris ever existing in the past century. He didn’t want to think of the implications it had, so he just shut off his laptop and pushed himself off of the bed.  
After getting dressed and making himself a cup of truly terrible coffee, he picked up his phone to a text from an unknown number.  
He soon realized that the text was from Holly, he was apparently supposed to meet her and Clint for breakfast at the estate. Tinsley groaned and cradled his head in his hands.  
He dressed quickly, only stopping at the mirror long enough to inspect the marks circling his neck.  
They were already eating when Tinsley sat down. Clint sat across from him, pouring himself a drink. Light bruises peeked out from the collar of his shirt. Bruises that were quickly obscured when he shifted in his seat but noticed by Tinsley nevertheless. So he had been right. Interesting.  
He turned his gaze to Holly. She had clever eyes, the sort where you could see the ambition and cunning behind them. Those same eyes were filled with an icy sort of cool that matched her expression.  
“You want to know about the maid. We’re willing to make a trade with you. You get information that’s useful to you, and we get to ask you some questions in return.” Her voice rang out in the morning air like a chime. Tinsley tilted his head,  
“You do realize that by admitting that you have information about Ms. Hill you are immediately placing yourselves under suspicion and that if I wanted, I could have you detained and questioned by the local police force.” A scoff from that. He didn’t know what they did for a living, but if they had a grasp on the police force in the city, it could make his life hell. He sat back in his chair and waited for them to show their cards.  
“If you let us ask you questions about your intentions and purposes here, we will give you information that you clearly desperately need because this case is a dead end right now and you know it.”  
He clasped his hands together, “You already know my intentions for being here, as you are offering up information about it right now. Also, how will I know you’re telling the truth?” Clint frowned at that and Tinsley watched his eyes meet with Holly’s. This wasn’t going as they had planned. That was a good sign for him.  
“Let me ask you a question, and if you answer that, I’ll consider working with you.” Holly’s gray eyes flickered with satisfaction as she nodded,  
“Francesca Norris isn’t her real name is it? What is?” They exchange another telling glance. He was right.  
“Why do you want to know?”  
“I like to know who I’m working with.” He gestured across the table,  
“Can you blame me?”  
Holly opened her mouth to speak as Clint said  
“That’s her real name. Why does it matter to you?” Holly’s eyes raised with interest. It was a blatant lie, but showed a valiant effort to defend their friend. Before Tinsley could respond he felt something on the underside of the table. It was the texture of a piece of thick paper and he felt along the edge and found a piece of tape attaching it to the table. Holly continued talking, trying to push him away from finding out Fran’s identity, but Tinsley was focused on slowly peeling the tape off, trying to do so without attracting attention.  
When he finally peeled the tape off, he put the small slip of paper into his pocket, but not without banging his elbow on the table, making his cup tilt, as if in slow motion, and fall onto the table instantly soaking everything with tea. He scrambled back, pushing his chair out behind him.  
Clint chuckled, and Holly just pursed her lips and handed him a paper napkin. He quickly tucked it into his pocket and continued cleaning up the mess without much thought of the glimpse of black ink on the napkin Holly had handed him.  
It was only when he got safely back to the hotel and pulled the curtains that he took it from his pocket again. The napkin was ripped in parts from the pen, but the message was clear:  
Look up June Delaney - Jack and Sydney  
Think about my offer  
She was cunning, playing at her own game rather than for the team. He grabbed his laptop and replaced Francesca Norris in the search bar with June Delaney.  
There was a match. She was twenty three, just a couple of years younger than him. Her parents died in a fire seventeen years ago. She went into and aged out of the foster care system. She got into Julliard, but didn’t go. In fact, she got into the highest ranked colleges in the nation, but didn’t go to any of them. Instead, she disappeared and seemily started her life anew here. This time when Tinsley closed his laptop, he was even more dissatisfied with the information he had gotten than the first time he had searched.  
He flipped the note in his pocket over and over. He had looked at it earlier. There had clearly been ink on it before, but having been soaked with tea in the ordeal earlier, he would never be able to decipher what was written. Someone wanted to tell him something badly enough to tape paper to a table rather than just talking to him. He’d never know what is was. It didn’t matter anyways. Holly was right, the case was a dead end without her help. He had gotten nowhere with his investigation and had nearly stopped thinking about it with all that had been going on. He needed to refocus.  
Tinsley pulled the case file out of the nightstand drawer and read it over again.  
No suspects. No motive. No case.  
He pulled his phone out and started a text to the number that had messaged him earlier. When he was done it read,  
I agree to your terms. When can we meet to discuss?  
(I assume you want to do this covertly since you are giving away your friend’s secrets)  
He sent the text and placed his phone on the bedside table.  
Tinsley ended up in a darkened pub, eating slowly, distracted by the book in his hands. Well at least until Holly sat down in front of him. Hardly glancing up, he slowly closed his book and pushed it to the side of the table.  
“Tell me about yourself, mister Tinsley.”  
“What do you want to know?” He rested his chin on his clasped hands and raised his brows.  
“A life story, preferably. I like to know who I’m working with as much as you, it seems.”  
He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts,  
“My name is C.C. Tinsley and I have no surviving family. My mother died in childbirth, my father in a car accident. I was in high school when he died, left with four siblings to raise. Couldn’t go to college so I just read anything I could get my hands on and it eventually got me an internship.” Holly studied him for a moment, her piercing gray eyes analyzing his own.  
“Satisfied?”  
“Not quite.” But she had seen the barrier form in his head, she wasn’t going to get any more from him until she had given him something in return.  
“Okay. What do you want to know?” A smile ghosted his lips. This was what he was good at. Dinner parties and politics were foreign and unnerving to him, but working cases, interrogating suspects, Tinsley could do that.  
“First of all, when was the last time you saw Mary Hill?” A long pause,  
“It was around sunset ten days aago, I think, when was the twenty-eighth?” Tinsley confirmed the date and she continued on,  
“She gets off at eight every night and she was on her way out when I saw her. She smiled at me and left. That’s all I know.” Her words were innocuous, but the way her lips tilted and her eyes sparkled with secrets proved to him that she knew much more than she was letting on. She went on to tell him everything she remembered from that night. It wasn’t much.  
Her excuse was that she had been drinking with Clint and Ricky earlier in the evening, making her memories foggy. The events matched up with what he had heard at the dinner party, but it wouldn’t have been very difficult to discuss their alibis beforehand. They drank early in the night, had dinner after the maid left, and passed out on the velvet couches sometime around 1:00am. And of course none of them happened to see Mary Hill.  
Tinsley rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. It had been almost two hours and though he had gotten their stories of what happened that night, he wasn’t any closer to finding who killed the girl.  
Finally, he snapped.  
“You promised me information, useful information. Where the hell is it? You’re wasting my time.” Holly threw him an exasperated glance, as if he were an overreacting child that needed chiding.  
“Okay, you want information, here it is.” He raised his brows, leaning in.  
“You’re looking in the wrong place. None of us saw her that night. You know who I did see however? Her brother. He was sleeping with Fran for months and when the girl found out she was upset, really upset. She liked Fran or something.” She shrugged,  
“It could’ve been nothing.” Before Tinsley could decide what to do with the information he had been given, he heard the door swing open and looked back to find his informant gone.  
Tinsley let out a long breath, this case was becoming more involved than he had expected or wanted. He turned the straw in his drink as he reflected on the information he had on the maid’s brother. A flash of silver shone in the corner of his eye, disappearing before he could turn to look. He was so goddamn tired. Tired of the case, tired of the impossible characters that lived in the city, tired of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really excited for the next chapter, might even post a few days early if I get it done. As always, leave suggestions and/or any comments you have for me! hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	9. A Devil Dressed in Red and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Chapter from Ricky's point of view, as suggested by FordPerfect. I had a ton of fun with this one so I hope you guys enjoy it! I hope this also gives a lot more insight into the relationships within the group and also gives both Kali and Ricky a bit more of a storyline.

Ricky finished signing the last invitation right as Kali strolled into the office, her short dress rippling like mercury. She sat down in the plush chair by his desk and started talking.   
“Guess who I found having dinner at the White Lion?” He grinned at that,   
“Our very own private detective who has a knack for making me want to replace his kneecaps with bricks?” A light laugh escaped her lips as she nodded.  
“Oh goody, was Holly there?” Another nod at that.  
“They seemed to be trading information. Tinsley about his life story and Holly about the girl.” Ricky kicked his feet down from their place on his desk and drummed his fingers on the wood.   
“Not bad.” He paused, “Did he mention the note?”   
“No, but I also don’t think he’d be willing to show his cards yet, so he could just be waiting for the right time.” Ricky sighed at that, but quickly dismissed it from his mind,  
“Things are going well for us, you can relax and focus on our upcoming event. You haven’t forgotten have you?” Kali flashed a wicked grin,  
“I would never.”   
“What are you going as, my dear?”   
“You’ll see”  
Kali’s dark eyes flickered with something that Ricky couldn’t help but feel mimicked his own mind. He couldn’t place it, but it was this essence of something dark and powerful and sultry. It was the feeling of silk sliding over a warm body, of feather-light kisses that send tingles down your spine. It was beautiful and addictive and all-consuming. Maybe it was why he felt so drawn to her. Because she had the reflection of that same sensation within him. She stood up and leaned over his chair to press a kiss on the side of his neck, running a hand through his messy curls.   
“If you say so, my little raven” His voice came out deeper than he intended, raspier. He rolled his neck and forced himself to shift his focus.   
“Guests will start showing up at midnight exactly, so you need to make sure everyone is ready and that everything is in order. I’ll be busy so it’s up to you to get us through the night without any issues.” He paused,   
“I’m putting my trust in you. You know what will happen if you break that trust.” She nodded but didn’t break eye contact with him.   
“I slipped the invitation is his pocket, as you asked.” Ricky frowned thoughtfully at that,   
“You think he’ll take the bait?”   
“I’m not sure, but I think he has too much of a curious mind to just do nothing.” He hoped so, otherwise, his plans would go out the window. Kali strolled out of the room without another word, closing the doors behind her.   
Ricky leaned back in his leather chair and poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter to his side. It had to go well or else his mother would have to come to check up on him again. God, he hated her. Or did he? He could never tell. They had an odd relationship, one where the line between love and hate was blurred to the point of nonexistence and had been for as long as he could remember.  
He downed his drink and poured another, relishing the burn that traveled down his throat. If he ran away, disappeared as his sister had, would his mother replace him with another heir? How long would she grieve for her lost son before she stopped pretending that she had ever cared for him? It wasn’t very long the first time. He closed his eyes and finished his drink a second time.   
By the time Ricky came out of his office that night, his eyes were redder than he would care to admit and he was stumbling over himself. The world spun as he fell onto his bed and closed his eyes. He lay there for a long time, wasted out of his mind.   
Then he felt a warm body against his, maybe two. Kisses being pressed to his shoulders and neck. A brilliant laugh escaped him, and he flipped the person on his right over and kissed them desperately. He needed it. Oh god, he needed it.  
That night he faded out of consciousness with the sound of heavy breathing and a pleasant buzz overlapping his drunkenness. 

Ricky woke up in a haze. He knew there was too much that he needed to do for him to be laying in bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the warm bodies on either side of him.   
He was forced back to reality when Holly swung the door open, illuminating the room.   
“Rise and shine, sleepyheads. We have a big day planned.” Ricky groaned and threw a pillow at her head as Fran sat up in the bed, wrapping the sheets around her bare torso. Her eyes lit up at Holly’s words and she bounced off the bed and onto her feet, taking the sheets with her.   
Clint objected to the loss with a mumbled curse and a glare thrown her way as he sat up. Fran and Holly left the room exchanging frenzied whispers while Ricky stood up and began getting dressed. Holly was right, they had a big day today that he had been ignoring. Clint was gone by the time Ricky had pulled his pants on, leaving Ricky alone to get ready.  
It really was an all-day activity. The maids brought stacks of tea sandwiches to their rooms and left them to their own devices.   
Ricky shrugged on a silk dressing robe before staring into the vanity. He looked better than he felt, though that wasn’t saying much. The curls of his hair were frizzy and unorganized, his eyes looked hollow and cold, and the dark stubble on his chin was getting longer than it should. He turned his gaze away abruptly, grabbed a sandwich, and went to check on the others.  
Fran’s suite always brought a smile to his face, even under the worst circumstances. It was warm and soft, with scented candles burning constantly and a bed with enough pillows and blankets to suffocate in. It reminded him of her.   
She was at her vanity, leaning into the ornate mirror as she applied her eyeshadow. She threw up a hand in greeting and spun her stool around to face him as he tossed himself onto her bed.   
Unconquered curls sprang loose from the bun she had messily swept her hair into and only one eyelid had a golden shimmer across it. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at him until he broke out into laughter. She knew he was procrastinating, but he was thankful that she let him lay there anyways, joking with her as she got ready. He stayed there for longer than he should’ve, clutching a pillow to his chest and listening to her talk as she did her makeup.  
But finally, he knew he had to get done, so he kissed her cheek and walked back over to his suite.

He ran a thumb over the burgundy satin of his suit jacket and smiled, it would fit cozily into the scene he had constructed. Ricky slid the gold, embellished devil mask over his perfected curls and glanced at himself in the mirror.   
The cummerbund at his waist matched his jacket, as did his bow tie. He looked as if he could be in a wedding party-excluding the mask adorning his face.   
Golden horns protruded from the sides of it, curving in near-perfect arcs. If he looked carefully, he could see the small, intricate designs printed on the horns and around the edges. It was perfect. The mask played near-perfectly into the role he would play soon enough. Satisfied, he stood from his seat and slipped his suit jacket on, allowing himself to appreciate the texture for a moment longer before strolling out of his suite, locking the door behind him.   
It was when he turned from his door that he saw Kali, his raven, standing a few yards away. It took him a long moment to completely absorb her, her outfit.   
She wore a silky black dress that slid down her legs and pooled by her feet. Gold embroidery traversed the dress, rippling at the creases. Then he saw her mask, his eyes were trapped on the mask she wore. Heavily angled eye slits were outlined by small black feathers and gold ringed the edges of the mask. Also ringing the edge of the mask, peeking out from behind, were feathers. They brushed the skin of her cheeks and rose up to touch her hairline. The finishing touch-a teardrop of onyx at the tip of her nose, a stand-in beak.   
She was gorgeous, more than gorgeous. She looked like a goddess with that outfit and the powerful, saint-like aura emanating from her.   
A sinful grin split across her face as she saw the way he looked at her and she glided over and took his arm. They began walking down one of the stairways to the main entryway and Ricky spotted the rest of his friends lined up in the open room. Their masked faces smiled as Ricky and his Raven made their way down the marble steps. At that moment, Ricky couldn’t have been happier. He had his friends to support him every step of the way, even if it was a twisted, unusual kind of support. It worked for them. He smiled down at his friends, his makeshift family, his lovers, his partners-in-crime, and for a split second was so happy he could hardly breathe.  
Then the guests started to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you all that I might update early :) As always, leave suggestions and/or any comments you have for me!!


	10. Carnival of Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley goes to the masquerade and searches for answers to his question. He finds a few answers and receives a ton more questions in return.

Tinsley pulled at his collar, trying to find a way to cover the raw skin marring his neck. A goddamn masquerade, he was going to a masquerade. Who even does those anymore? Etched into the simple silver mask he wore were whorls that made it look somewhat nice. He hadn’t had much time to prepare but had luckily found it sitting in a boutique downtown. The rest of his outfit consisted of the singular suit he had brought with him and a silver tie to match his mask.

Tinsley took one final glance at himself in the mirror before heading out the door.

He found himself at the entrance of the house a short while after the event started. Light flooded from the windows of the house and faint music was being played somewhere in the house. It reminded him of a music box, faint enough to be unsettling while not having the intent of being creepy.

The doors were wide open, so Tinsley stepped through into the den of lions. As he wandered into the house, the carnival of colors and designs struck him like a slap to the face.

He spotted Fran first, spinning into the arms of a masked man that he didn’t recognize. Beaded embroidery ran in intricate patterns down the bodice and onto the wide skirt of the red ball gown. The mask of golden lace was not made for hiding her identity, but for decoration. She caught his eye and grinned, open and carefree. He couldn’t help but smile back before losing her as a crowd moved in.

He snaked through the dancing people, through platters of champagne and delicate appetizers. He kept moving, kept searching for Holly or Ricky or someone he recognized.

He came to a halt when he spotted Ricky. He recognized him immediately, even with the mask obscuring his features. Golden horns twisted out from his mask, ending right above his dark curls. It seemed Ricky recognized him as well, as a devilish grin spread across his face. He looked perfect for the role, with the blood-red of his suit, the twisted horns of his mask. He was sin incarnate. The wicked glint in his eyes only reassured Tinsley’s thoughts.

Then he was lost, lost into a hurricane of twirling skirts and glittering masks. They swirled around Tinsley too, dizzying his mind and making him impossibly lost within the masses of dancers.

After what felt like hours, Tinsley found himself spit out of the maze, quickly found himself a couch, and sat down. Immediately following this Holly came up behind him and sat down, smoothing her silver skirt as she did. There was a beat of silence before she leaned into him,

“There’s something going on tonight. Don’t be there when it happens.” Then she was up and Tinsley spotted the lace back of her dress slipping into the crowd before disappearing.

There was something else at play. Was it possible that the entire event could be a distraction in order for them to get away with something? Tinsley groaned and walked back into the maze of people, trying to find Ricky once more. Ricky would have to be there, so Tinsley figured if he kept an eye out for when Ricky left, he would be able to follow him to whatever they were planning.

He spotted him a moment later. His head thrown back, reminding Tinsley of that night not too long ago. The darkness and the sight of Ricky pressed against the stone hit him once more as he watched Ricky. Tinsley ripped his thoughts as he felt his heart sped up. Ricky was laughing. It was a brilliant sound, his laugh. Hearty and barking and-Tinsley paused where he stood, making dancers swerve to avoid him- happy. He realized that he had never seen Ricky laugh. Smirk, yes. Chuckle, yes. A real, genuine, laugh? He had never seen that from him. Tinsley fought the tug of his lips as he watched Ricky twirl Fran back into his arms.

Then someone took his hand and they were dancing. He didn’t take his eyes off of Ricky and Fran as they moved in time to the music. Not until the woman pressed close to him and breathed,

“He looks gorgeous, doesn’t he?” into his chest. His gaze snapped to her in an instant. It took him a second to recognize her with her feathered mask obscuring her powerful features. With a final glance at Ricky, he twirled her out from him and moved across the room.

“What’s happening tonight?” Another twirl,

“A masquerade, of course.” Her lips pulled with a soft smile before she fiercely spun away, forcing him to follow in hopes of a real answer. He scowled, turning to glance at Ricky one more time before following her through the crowd. Only Ricky wasn’t there. Where Ricky had been dancing with Fran only moments earlier, was an empty space. He went ram-rod straight and scanned the crowd for the missing dancers, but they had disappeared from the room.

He turned back to Kali in a panic, only to find her gone as well. He exploded into action, pushing his way through the throng of people. His eyes caught on a laced back of a dress, the same one that he had watched disappear into the crowd earlier. He pushed harder, elbowing confused dancers aside as he raced to the outskirts of the ballroom.

He stumbled his way out of the swarm of dancers just as he caught the silver skirt of a dress slipping out a door.

Running now, he raced to the door, throwing a waiter off balance. He didn’t even look back as he heard the echoing clatter of a tray on the marble floor. Tinsley nearly bounced off of the wall as he pressed against it to slow his momentum. He threw the door open and rushed into the house beyond, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

There were a million doors in that hallway. Tinsley threw open every single one, searching for the group. They had to be doing something terrible, in order for them to plan this entire event to cover it up. He was frantic, racing from door to door, becoming ever more panicked as each room was found to be empty.

A flash of red around the corner, a light wave of fingers, as if calling him closer. He raced over as the person disappeared into a room with a wink.

Tinsley exhaled, praising Fran in his mind, before sneaking around the corner and peeking through the door.

A man was hanging from the ceiling, ropes cutting into his wrists.  
He was dressed for the event, excluding the fox mask that lay discarded on the floor. Fran, Clint, Holly, and Kali were on the outskirts of the room, leaning against the walls or playing distractedly with their outfits. Ricky was in the center, leaning in, whispering something into the man’s ear. It couldn’t have been good, Tinsley figured as the man spit a mouthful of blood onto Ricky’s suit.   
Even from behind, Tinsley could feel the anger that began radiating off of Ricky as his fist collided with the man’s ribs. Ricky let out a low growl before standing up straight.   
“I’ll ask you again. What do they want from me?” The man glared at Ricky and braced himself for another swing, one which came shortly thereafter.   
“Do they want my money?” He punctuated the last word with a hit to the man’s face.   
“Do they want my power?” Another hit.  
“Or is it something else? Something that I don’t even realize that I have?” He moved close to the man’s bloodied face, watching it drip down onto his elaborate costume. The man met Ricky’s eyes and smiled before his eyes caught on Tinsley’s own. His eyes flicked away, but he dipped his head in acknowledgment. Tinsley didn’t know the man and he assumed that the man didn’t know him either.   
Tinsley suddenly felt a sinking in his chest, he was acknowledging him as a fellow conspirator. He was nothing of the sort. He wasn’t trying to spy or decieve them, he just wanted to solve a murder. Yet they regarded each other like conspirators in that moment. copper hair glistened with blood as his head twisted as he shook violently from another blow.  
Then Ricky took a knife and cut the center of his costume open, revealing his chest. He drew the knife down his torso, leaving rivulets of blood running down, soaking into his trousers.   
Tinsley couldn’t help but flinch, remembering his recent encounter with Holly.   
Yet the man didn’t seem to be breaking. He had the smallest smile on his face, as if this had been his plan all along. Tinsley’s eyes broke away from the man as Clint moved, his wolf mask turning to face him. Tinsley threw himself back against the wall, hoping that Clint wouldn’t venture out of the room.   
Tinsley held his breath as heavy footsteps came towards him. They stopped and Tinsley’s heart was pounding so hard that he could’ve sworn it could be heard a mile away. Then Clint turned and headed back towards the middle of the room.   
Tinsley sank into the wall, letting out a long exhale before turning to find the door to the room closed.   
He wanted to help him, he really did. But they both knew he couldn’t risk getting caught. The man would be fine on his own. With that slight bit of reassurance, Tinsley slipped out of the hallway and back into the main ballroom.   
A wave of noise hit him immediately, he hadn’t realized how quiet it was outside. Nothing had changed, the waterfall of colors, the dancers swirling in the center.   
A masked woman took his hand as he started towards the dancers. He didn’t recognize her, but it was clear that she would take offense if he didn’t follow. So Tinsley took a few steps towards the center and they began to dance.   
Tinsley switched partners many times in the period that followed. He had forgotten how nice it was to simply dance. To let the music wash over you and take control of your body. He lost himself in it for a short while. He danced until he spotted Ricky slipping through the crowd, golden mask adorning his face. Tinsley paused, breathing heavily.   
Ricky stopped, looking him in the eye and smiled. It was the smile of a drunk singing in a bar, or of a dancer finishing a difficult routine. It was satisfaction and pride and something else that he couldn’t place. He could tell Ricky didn’t think Tinsley knew what he was smiling about and almost smiled to himself at the thought. So Tinsley slipped through the crowd, wondering idly what story Ricky would come up with.   
When Tinsley asked where they had gone, Ricky smoothly replied that the cook had messed up and Kali had an allergic reaction to something in the food. Tinsley nodded along, acting as gullible as he had felt the past few days. Then Fran swept up by his side and they descended into pleasant conversation.   
Ricky swiped two tall glasses of sparkling champagne off of a passing tray. He handed one to Tinsley, and raised his own in silent satisfaction. They both drank, though each raised his glass to a different victory. Tinsley promptly forgot about it as he spoke vivaciously with Fran.   
It was only after twenty minutes that Tinsley looked up at the dancers around them and saw blurs of color rather than people. The walls twisted around him and all he could do was gaze down at his empty glass in shock as the world came out from under him and he fell into the solid arms of someone behind him before passing out.


	11. A Cup of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the masquerade is more sinister than Tinsley expects. A surprise visitor and a late night explanation may reveal betrayals that can never be forgiven.

It was a spectacle when Tinsley fell. Everyone burst into action as he tipped back into Clint’s waiting arms. Ricky knelt down, procuring a handkerchief from his suit pocket. Clint placed him down on the ground with fake shock and Ricky started dabbing at Tinsley’s forehead with feigned worry as his friends moved around him. A crowd was gathering now and he could hear people whispering with interest. He couldn’t help a small smile from crossing his lips before he schooled his features back to worry and panic. Him and Clint lifted Tinsley up, announcing to the crowd that they were going to get him a doctor, and left the room. The man was surprisingly light and it didn’t take very long to carry him to a secluded room.  
There they pulled his suit jacket off and searched his pockets. They found little of value to them. While the others were looking away Ricky tucked a piece of paper into Tinsley’s pocket, silently praying that no one noticed.  
Then, the real event began. 

Tinsley was getting tired of waking up to the popcorn ceiling of his hotel room.  
A quick glance revealed that he had been stripped of everything but his undershirt and trousers. He groaned softly and forced himself off of the bed, feet trailing towards the bottle of whiskey on the table. Once he was slightly more relaxed, Tinsley pulled a paper, folded many times over itself, out of the pocket of his pants. His head spun as he opened it to reveal Ricky’s looped cursive once again.  
He read over it five times in total before folding it up and placing it on the table. Ricky Goldsworth was worried. Tinsley couldn’t believe it. The most dangerous man in the city was nervous to the point of writing the man investigating him and his friends. He was losing control of the city, of his friends. His plans were getting to big for him to manage and, for some reason, he was looking to Tinsley for help.  
He nearly scoffed at the thought. What could he do? He was a failing private detective who couldn’t even prevent himself from getting knocked out by his entourage.  
He mulled over it for a long hour before slowly grabbing his phone from where it had been placed on his nightstand. Someone must have been kind enough to leave at least some of his belongings.  
He typed slowly, feeling as though he were doing something evil.  
“How can I help?  
C.c”  
He threw his phone on the bed as soon as he sent it. What was he doing? Ricky was a dangerous man, one that Tinsley certainly should not be helping. He should be helping to arrest him, not offering himself up to support the man. He fell back onto the bed, wanting to tear up the pillow beneath him. He was being stupid. Irrational. He knew better than this. Why the hell had he texted him? Why had he taken this case in the first place. He should just leave on the next train out of the city.  
Then his phone buzzed somewhere under his body. He scrambled up frantically and drug through the tangle of sheets and blankets for it. He finally found his phone and rushed to unlock it.  
“Not much you can do now.”  
“but you could start by opening the door.”  
On cue, three pounds on the door announced the man’s presence. Tinsley held his breath as he moved to the peephole and looked through to see a head of dark, curly hair, too short to reach the peephole fully. Tinsley clenched and unclenched his jaw before slowly unlocking the door and opening it as if a viper was waiting to strike behind it.  
The door swung open to reveal, not a viper, but a man who bore a shocking resemblance to a sad puppy. His hair was disheveled, covering a good portion of his face, his shirt was half buttoned and wrinkled. Then Tinsley saw his face. It only took a split second for him to realize.  
The most dangerous man in the city had been crying.  
His eyes were puffy and ringed with red and his lip trembled with effort to hold back tears. Tinsley reached out to touch the man just as he shoved past him into the room beyond. He sat gracelessly on the bed before falling back into the sheets. Tinsley closed the door in silent shock before turning to face Ricky. He was completely wrapped in sheets by the time Tinsley turned around, hiding his face within them. Without a word, Tinsley walked to the small coffee maker on the desk and began heating up the water.  
By the time the tea was done, Ricky’s eyes had dried significantly. Tinsley slowly sat on the bed next to him, as if trying not to startle a deer, and handed him the cup. His hands shook violently as he sipped and he opened his mouth to speak many times before he closing it, realizing that he could not speak without allowing the tears that he was holding back to slip down his face.  
The sun was well below the horizon by the time Ricky began to speak.  
“I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t even look twice when she started taking over.” He paused, steadying the trembling of his lip before continuing.  
“First it was just paperwork, stuff that I didn’t have time for. Then she started winning my friends over. She pushed me out of my own house.” Tinsley sat quietly, not wanting to push the broken man further.  
“She knew about everything. I started confiding in her. I thought I could trust her. She used all that I told her to push her own agenda through. I was too caught up in myself and my work that I didn’t notice until it was too late.” A shaking breath, then  
“It happened after you passed out. We were going to kill you. I hadn’t thought you were a threat, but she pushed and pushed for it and I let her. She took control and there was nothing I could do.”  
For the first time that night, Ricky looked him in the eyes.  
“She will be the ruin of this city.” A shiver ran through Tinsley’s spine and he finally realized who Ricky was speaking of. Kali was the one that had manipulated him, gotten him to trust and confide in her, then used his vulnerability to replace him as their leader. It was brilliant. It was cruel and ruthless, a display of her power and cunning. He would’ve been impressed if the victim of her plan wasn’t sitting next to him.  
And if she hadn’t wanted to kill him. Ricky continued, his voice beginning to tremble,  
“She had them tie me up. She made them cut me to show their loyalty to her.” At that, he unbuttoned his shirt fully and revealed messy bandages wrapping most of his chest, some of them stained with blood that was leaking through. Tinsley’s eyes widened as he took it in. The man was clearly in pain. Not only physical, but also pain at what the cuts represented. They had practically disowned him, replacing him with his own friend and lover. Ricky never explained how Tinsley or he had gotten out, and Tinsley never asked. He decided that there was more to worry about that night than how they escaped.  
“Then,” his lip trembled and he brought his hands up to cover his face,  
“She killed my mother.” Tinsley could barely hear his horrified whisper into the sheets. Tinsley sucked in a breath, hoping that he had heard wrong as Ricky continued,  
“She shot her in the heart. My mother looked me in the eyes as she was shot and killed. I could see my reflection in her cold, dead eyes. ” He shuddered violently into the sheets. He was crying now, his breathing quick and uneven. Tinsley paused in horror before he softly took the empty cup from Ricky’s shaking hands and placed it on the bedside table. He turned back to Ricky and slowly reached out and wrapped the man’s trembling fingers in his own.  
They rested on that rigid hotel bed, hand in hand, until Ricky’s breathing slowed. When Tinsley noticed that he had fallen asleep, he slipped his hand from his and rose to get another blanket for him. When he had placed the blanket over the sleeping man, Tinsley sat down onto the couch. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to. Yet, he couldn’t help but trust the man sleeping on his bed. The horror and distress in his eyes were certainly not fake, but he could still be deceiving Tinsley. He nearly picked up his phone to call Fran many times before the sun rose, but relented each time.  
When the sun rose in the morning, there were no police at the door, no sudden entrances by Ricky’s ex-friends. Only soft sunlight and a messy-haired, bleary-eyed Ricky Goldsworth smiling sleepily at Tinsley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I was going to post late this week because I was crazy busy and hadn’t had time to think about how to extend the story, but I ended up writing nearly an entire chapter today so now I’m updating early i guess? Let me know what you think/reactions/suggestions! :)  
(P.S I’m thinking about starting to post updates about this series on my tumblr acc, let me know if that’s something you’d like)


	12. Death in Armani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucia Goldsworth’s funeral is a public event. An event with lots of people to witness what comes next.

The Goldsworths were public figures, figures that required public funerals. Ricky wanted to take advantage of that. Tinsley, on the other hand couldn’t bring himself to see the logistical reason why he would be willing to risk his own life, as well as the lives of all the civilians, in order to simply take back his spot as the leader of his little entourage. For all the times Ricky told him that the leader of that group had more power than the mayor of the city, Tinsley couldn’t believe it. So he settled for letting Ricky plan in peace, occasionally handing him a biscuit.   
Then it came time to change his bandages. Tinsley never was good at physical interaction, but he did his best to keep his hands steady as he slowly peeled off the reddened bandages. Ricky flinched at every touch, his breathing shallow and quick as he tried to keep still.   
Tinsley checked the messy stitches for error or infection, but pulled away before finishing as he found his hand lingering on the man’s sculpted chest.   
He dabbed at the dried blood with a piece of cloth and watched as the water he used slowly turned red. When he was finally done, Ricky’s stitches were more visible, as were his wounds. Sharp slices drew across his chest and stomach, ones that would surely mar his torso for the rest of his life when they healed to scars.  
The funeral was in three days, Ricky would have to let himself heal a bit before he could even leave the hotel. He seemed willing to risk reopening the wounds, however, and insisted that he would be fine. Tinsley relented, but was still nervous. He needed Ricky alive and with him, as he was still keeping secrets from him. He was sure Ricky knew who killed the maid. He just needed to get Ricky to trust him enough to tell him.  
They slipped through the stain of black filling the square. All around them were civilians that had come to mourn for the great philanthropist. The sun shone too brightly for the occasion, blinding Tinsley as he attempted to see the stage in the middle of the square. He turned back and focused himself on not losing Ricky in the crowd.   
Tinsley had helped Ricky don the suit that he wore now, an obsidian Armani that flattered his impressive figure. Ricky had insisted that they go to his personal tailor before the funeral, his reasoning being that it was essential he displayed his power. Tinsley had relented and had gone with him early the previous morning, allowing Ricky to pay for a suit for himself as well.   
This was what Tinsley thought of as he watched the man’s powerful figure move through the crowd. Not the risks that he was taking by allying himself with this man, not the fact that he was now simply a pawn in a game that he wasn’t eligible to partake in. Either way, it was too late to turn back now, so Tinsley pushed the thoughts from his mind and simply followed Ricky.   
By the time they could see the stage, Ricky’s targets had appeared. Fran genuinely seemed upset, unlike Clint and Holly. Marble statues could’ve shown more emotion.  
Then there was Kali, standing arm in arm with a man whose face seemed eerily familiar. It took him a moment to figure it out, as the last and only time Tinsley had seen him he had been bleeding heavily.   
The red haired man had been part of the plot all along. Tinsley couldn’t help but wish that he could ask Fran about him, but he knew it would be too risky with a new leader in power.  
They had clearly planned for Ricky’s absence. Kali stepped up to the microphone and began speaking without hesitation.   
She oozed sorrow and apology with a conviction that would have probably convinced Tinsley if he hadn’t reminded himself that she hadn’t shot Lucia Goldsworth point blank only days earlier.   
“-Sadly, her beloved son Ricky can not be with us today to mourn. Lucia’s death has been very hard on him and he is not able to leave the house.” A fake sniffle punctuated her sentence as if she hadn’t been the one to cause the suffering, the one who left Ricky so injured that he could barely move in the following days. At that, he glanced over to see how the man in question was doing. He was barely breathing, his eyes locked on a figure in the distance.   
At the very back on the crowd stood a lone woman. An umbrella dug into the dirt beside her as she lifted a gloved hand to fix her hair. Tinsley started abruptly,  
“Who is the guy with Kali? What does he have to do with this?” He gestured to the lone woman, “What does she have to do with this? You need to start explaining to me or else I’ll leave you here.” An old woman turned to shush him and Tinsley scowled in her direction before she could open her mouth.  
Ricky paused, reluctant. He let out a long exhale,  
“The man’s name is Reyhan. He’s the maid’s brother. I guess he’s been working with them. As for the woman.” He fidgeted with the buttons of his suit jacket before continuing,  
“She’s my sister.”  
Tinsley cocked his head in shock. The same sister who Fran mentioned had been away for years after separating herself from her inheritance, her fame, her life. Tinsley had done some research on her and had found contradicting views. Some said that she was open and kind, a philanthropist like her mother. Others stated that she was reclusive and cold, too focused on herself. Tinsley guessed that he was about to find out as Ricky began moving through the crowd.   
His eyes were locked onto her and he rushed through the crowd as if she wouldn’t be there when he arrived. He broke out of the crowd and his sister turned to face him.   
Time slowed around them, Tinsley saw recognition flash in her eyes as she took a small step back. At the same time Ricky found himself pulled to her. He looked as if he desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, to make sure she was real, but held himself back.   
Kali’s words faded to the background as she reached into her coat and Charlotte Goldsworth drew a gun on her own brother.   
Her hand shook violently but she kept it raised, fearful of the man in front of her.   
Ricky stopped in his tracks, putting his hands up. Devastation showed in his eyes as he began pleading with his sister.  
“Lottie, Lottie please don’t shoot. I’m your brother. Remember? Remember when we-when we went onto the roof of the mansion that night. You-you told me that everything was going to be alright, you made it sound like we’d live forever. Then you left. Why’d you leave me?” His voice cracked as is if he were holding back tears  
Charlotte brought her other hand up to steady the shaking gun. Her next words were those of a haunted woman,   
“You aren’t my brother.”   
Ricky stepped forward.  
A gunshot echoed through the square.


	13. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man is shot by his own sister and left to die. Lucky, a private detective named Tinsley isn’t willing to let that happen. Fran’s back and ready to spill.

The world slammed back into them as wisps of smoke curled from the gun. The gun dropped from Charlotte’s limp hand as the crowd startled. Ricky gasped and tilted backwards as Tinsley lunged to catch him. The man fell like a stone into Tinsley’s arms and he struggled to hold him up. Just as people began to turn to the source of the noise, Tinsley moved Ricky and himself behind a stone statue. Then, straining his arms with Ricky’s unexpected weight, he dragged them into a store across the street.   
The owner stared in shock as Tinsley let Ricky’s unconscious body drop onto the stone floor. He reached for the phone on the wall before pausing as Tinsley drew his gun on him.  
“Do you have a first aid kit?” His voice shook uncharacteristically. The man nodded enthusiastically but stayed where he stood. Tinsley gestured wildly with the gun,  
“Go! He’s going to bleed out!” The man hurried to the back of the store, coming back with a small red box.  
Tinsley tore it open, spreading the contents on the floor. He grabbed the scissors and ripped through the suit Ricky had so lovingly donned only hours earlier. Tinsley frantically grabbed cloth from the kit and attempted to staunch the bleeding, but it was no use.   
He had lost too much blood on the way over. Then Tinsley felt a tap on his shoulder,  
“I went to medical school. I can help.” The heavily accented man kneeled in front of Ricky and began working.   
Tinsley rose shakily to his feet. He hadn’t noticed the blood soaking into his clothes until now. He would have to change before he could do anything. He turned to the now locked door and peered outside.   
Charlotte must have run off right after, as the crowd had mostly dispersed. There were no police cars in sight, which Tinsley thought was good. He didn’t know how he’d explain any of it to them anyways.   
You’re not my brother.   
Tinsley pondered it for a moment. There wasn’t really another way that it could be meant. Tinsley turned back to the unconscious man as his phone began to ring in his pocket. Tinsley paused for a moment before answering it, knowing what the unknown number meant.   
“Tinsley?!” Tinsley nearly sobbed at the sound of her voice. It seemed that the reality of the situation had just dawned upon him. He paused as Fran repeated herself.  
“Yeah. I’m here.”   
“Thank god. Tinsley,” her voice cracked, “I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”  
“I know. It’s okay.” Her voice shook as she continued,  
“I’m on my way. We need to talk in person.” The phone beeped as she hung up. Tinsley ran his fingers through his hair, knowing what he had to do, but reluctant to do it. 

The door locked behind Fran as she entered the shop. He hadn’t asked how she knew where he was and she hadn’t explained. Ricky was currently stable and asleep in the backroom of the shop. Fran glanced around quickly before seating herself at the metal table where Tinsley sat.   
Fran glanced at Tinsley’s phone, which lay face up on the table, recording.   
“You know what you have to do.” His face was set into a grim line as Fran took a long breath.   
“My name is Francesca Norris and this is my confession.” Tinsley gave her a long look, forcing her to backtrack.   
“My name is June Delaney, though I am called Francesca Norris by most. This is my confession.” She cleared her throat, looking as if she were already regretting her decision as she began to tell her story.  
“I met Ricky Goldsworth when he was at Princeton. I didn’t go there, but I lived nearby and we met at a party. He introduced me to his friends, Holly Horsely and Banjo McClintock. I joined their group quickly and moved in with them after they finished college. Ricky Goldsworth aids in the smuggling of illegal drugs overseas. The Goldsworths have a major say in politics, as well as a grasp on most of the city’s officials. Ricky has beaten, threatened, and blackmailed people in order to get what he wants. He isn’t the villain of this specific story though.” With that, Fran leaned forward in her chair, bringing her face closer to the phone.   
“Reyhan Hill and I killed Mary Hill. We were instructed to do so partially on the orders of a woman named Kali. Reyhan wanted power for himself. He knew that by having someone murdered, and by bringing an outsider to look into it, that we would make Ricky’s power unstable. It would be easy to win over the others, as they would doubt that Ricky trusted them. I-I was sleeping with Reyhan Hill. He and Kali convinced me to help. Though I do admit that I wanted power for myself, I would like to think that they pushed me towards it. So I helped Reyhan kill his sister and covered up evidence of our crime. Kali has seized power of both the Goldsworth’s smuggling business and the officials of the city. She will use these to her advantage, pushing her influence out until she’s controlling not just this city, but every city around it. She will let the leaders think they are in control, just with a few IOUs. But trust me, she will be masterminding everything. Charlotte Goldsworth will be helping her. The two have been in contact the entire time she was gone. Charlotte Goldsworth wanted her mother gone and Ricky out of the picture and Kali was offering just that. She disappeared five years ago because she found out that Ricky would take over the company when their mother died,  
not her. Ricky knew his bounds, he knew not to push too far. Kali doesn’t. She will conquer the surrounding area, and they won’t even realize it until it’s over.” Fran clenched her jaw and sat   
back in her chair.  
“Is that enough for you?”   
“Plenty.” Tinsley chewed his lip, unsure of how to act, “Thank you, Fran. It’s all going to be okay.” Even as he said them, the words sounded like a condemnation. It was then that he heard a soft grunt and both him and Fran swung around to the source. Ricky was leaning in the doorway, pale and sweaty, a hand clasped across his stomach.   
He extended his arm in what seemed like an extreme effort. He pointed at Fran, his fingers shaking with what looked like a strain. It turned out to be rage as he opened his mouth and, with agony and contempt unlike anything Tinsley had seen before, spoke one word.  
“You.” Both a damnation and a curse, Ricky spoke with such conviction and fire that Fran sank in her seat.   
She opened her mouth to speak but stopped as Ricky took a step towards her. He was shaking with rage, stumbling towards her as if he were ready to kill her where she stood. Tinsley rose with urgency as the injured man entered the room and promptly collapsed onto the ground.   
He was attempting to rise as Tinsley rushed over to him, lifting him up into his own arms. Despite Ricky’s weak protests and struggle, Tinsley carried him into the back and set him down on the cot where he nearly immediately lost consciousness. Tinsley came back to find Fran slouched in her seat, staring at the paintings on the wall.   
“He’s injured and delusional, he won’t even remember that when he wakes up.” it didn’t seem to reassure Fran as she turned to him.  
“Which do you think I’ll get? A life sentence or the death penalty?” Tinsley faltered,   
“Honestly? I don’t know. That’s not my job. I do write a report, however.” Tinsley swallowed before meeting her eyes. “I might fail to remember to write a portion of your confession down.” He shrugged “I’m also a good video editor.” He let a small smile out, “How do you feel about just covering up evidence? I don’t think you’re really the type to get their hands dirty with all of this awful murder stuff.” Fran met his eyes and dipped her head ever so slightly as if she were nervous someone would see her agree.  
“I can’t help it if they find anything later on in the case, but I’ll at least give you a fighting chance.”   
They stood and Fran embraced him tightly, squeezing the air out of his lungs as she whispered   
“Thank you” over and over.   
Fran left the shop with a small wave and renewed hope in her eyes. Tinsley simply went into the back of the store where Ricky lay asleep. He sat on a stool by the cot and pulled out his laptop to begin typing up his report. Maybe it would all work out after all. Though there was still the enigma of Charlotte Goldsworth to deal with. Tinsley pondered it for a moment more before returning to his report, deciding that it was best to wait until Ricky was well to discuss it.


	14. Mending together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short final chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.

“Philanthropist and psychopath?” The reporter’s shrill voice made Tinsley snap. He snatched up the remote and watched the screen go black with frustration bubbling inside of him. His head fell into his hands. He had turned in his report a few days prior and the press was having a field day. They had been taken into custody within twenty-four hours, with the exception of Reyhan and Charlotte, who were nowhere to be found. Ricky had healed enough to go but had trouble doing anything more than walking. Even that required a cane.   
He had been in a sorry state when Tinsley had seen him last, chained to the table during his interrogation, which Tinsley had been luckily permitted to view. Over the three days and countless hours, Ricky had denied everything they had hit him with, whether it was Kali and the murder or his own pastimes.   
It didn’t change much. The trial was to be held in two days. They would decide his fate, along with all the others. Tinsley wasn’t prepared for it in the slightest. It would be less painful to fight a bear than to see Ricky in that courtroom. Once again, Tinsley was terrified.   
He hadn’t used to be that way. He used to solve cases with ease, with no attachments or sidetracking. It had been easier then. Monotonous and dreary, yes, but it had been easy. How had his life become so twisted? His mind was a ball of yarn ravaged by the cat, he wasn’t sure what he wanted or even who he was anymore. His principles had altered, as had his soul, and most likely not for the better.   
Tinsley got very, very, drunk in those 48 hours leading up to the court case. He didn’t want to think about it.   
As he shrugged his jacket on, Tinsley fumbled with the train ticket in his trouser pocket. He met his reflection’s eyes in the mirror.   
He couldn’t do it.   
Fuck.   
Tinsley ripped the ticket to shreds and left his room. His phone buzzed as he locked the door.   
How about one last favor?  
His heart stopped beating in his chest.   
Anything.  
What was he doing? Oh god, what did he just sign up for?  
Get in the car.  
Tinsley raced down the steps as if his shoes had wings. There, waiting for him, was a convertible the color of Ricky’s Armani suit. The driver tilted his sunglasses ever so slightly, that devilish grin spreading over his face.   
Tinsley didn’t think twice. He had the seatbelt on before he could even blink.   
“You didn’t think you’d get away that easily did you?” That voice. Tinsley had dreamed of that voice. There was nothing better in the world.   
“Where are we going?” Tinsley’s own was breathless, sharp.   
“Anywhere, as long as it’s far away from here.” Ricky took off his sunglasses, his endless eyes meeting Tinsley’s own. Everything about him, every mark on his face, was perfect. The bags under his eyes, the creases between his eyebrows, were beautiful. His lips, as harsh and sinful as before. Tinsley wanted to kiss them.   
He must have said as much, because those lips pulled into a grin before Ricky leaned in and planted a feather-light kiss on his lips. Tinsley’s hands immediately went around his neck, pulling him closer.   
When they pulled apart, it was slow. Ricky met his eyes.   
“Thank you, C.C. Tinsley.”   
“What for?”   
“You saved me.”   
Before Tinsley could begin to form a response, the engine roared and they were gone. Perhaps they would go somewhere far away, create new identities for themselves, learn to love normally. Perhaps they would destroy each other. As Tinsley looked to the broken man beside him, he thought that perhaps, it might not matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for supporting this work. It has meant the world to me.


	15. Bonus snippet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a tinsy bit of dialogue between Ricky and Tinsley in the car following the last chapter. I just thought that t was fun and I wanted to share it w yall.

"You're going to be a legend." Tinsley played with his tie as he thought out loud.   
"I already am." Ricky turned his gaze to him for a second, brows furrowing. "Isn't that what we live for?"   
"Maybe."   
"The world will remember our names. My face too."   
"Why not my face?" The words came out childish, pouty.   
"It's forgettable. It's why you make a good detective."   
"No wonder you were disappointed."   
"What?"  
"When I came to your house that first night."   
A laugh ripped from Ricky's throat, nearly choking him. "Are you kidding?" "I couldn't get over how flustered you were. It was extraordinary."   
Tinsley's cheeks burned as Ricky shook his head.   
"You would make an awful stripper."   
"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! This is my first fic but I figured I’d give it a try! Let me know what you think :)


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